Page 55 of Web of Lies

Riley

My heart rate quickens with every floor we pass, the elevator humming as the glowing numbers above the door climb in a steady rhythm, each one louder than the last in my head. Kyle's hand rests at the small of my back, but even his touch can't cut through the storm building in my chest.

I'm about to tell Mr. Hunt the truth, and I do not know how he's going to react.

Of course, Kyle is armed—he always is—but so is Hunt.

I've watched the tapes and seen how Hunt moves when it counts.

He isn't just calm. He's deadly. Fast. Precise.

Almost clinical in the way he kills. Kyle, though…

Kyle is different. His edge is sharper, rougher.

He thrives in the chaos while Hunt controls it.

My palms grow slick, and I rub them against the fabric of my skirt, forcing myself to breathe evenly.

"Everything will be okay," Kyle murmurs, and applies just enough pressure to keep me calm, like he's reminding me he's here and I'm not walking into this alone.

"How can you be so sure?" I tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

His lips twitch into the faintest smile. "Just trust me."

I open my mouth to argue, but the sharp ping of the elevator cuts me off. The doors glide open with a metallic sigh. Kyle steadies me, his hand on my back as he guides me forward.

"Welcome to—Riley." Hannah's voice bursts through the air like sunlight breaking clouds.

She maneuvers her wheelchair from behind the desk, her smile stretching across her face.

Relief floods through me so quickly my knees nearly buckle.

I hadn't realized how badly I needed to see a familiar face until now.

"So happy you're back. I hope you're feeling better. "

"Thanks, Hannah. I'm glad to be back, too." I return her smile. Then I catch her gaze flicking past me, settling on Kyle.

"Oh, this is Kyle," I add quickly, my hand brushing against his arm.

She gives him a polite once-over before her expression softens into a professional smile. She extends her hand. "I'm Hannah, Mr. Hunt's secretary."

Kyle takes her hand firmly, offering her one of his rare, polite smiles. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Hannah releases his hand, and her tone slips into business mode. "What can I do for you two?"

"Is the boss in his office?" I ask.

She nods and pivots her wheelchair with practiced ease, gliding back toward her desk. "He just got back from lunch and doesn't have any appointments until," she pauses and scans the calendar on her desk, "three p.m. Do you need to talk to him?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay." Hannah presses the button on the phone at her desk. A low buzzing tone hums through the room before someone answers.

"Yes?" Mr. Hunt's deep voice crackles from the speaker.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir," Hannah says. "Riley and Mr.—" she pauses, glancing at Kyle.

"Bennett."

"Mr. Bennett are here and would like a word." Silence follows. Not long, but it's enough to make my pulse spike with every tick of the clock.

"Send them in," he finally says.

"Thank you, sir." Hannah releases the button, the line going dead with a soft click. She turns back toward us with a smile. "You heard him."

"Thanks," I say, offering Hannah a small, polite smile before turning toward the large double doors to Hunt's office.

My hand trembles as I reach out and curl my fingers around the cool handle.

Drawing a sharp breath, I push it down slowly and step through the doors.

Kyle follows close behind, catching the door and gently closing it until the lock clicks into place.

The sight of the office hits me like a déjà vu. The last time I was in this room was in the middle of the night when I wasn't supposed to be here, when Kyle and I broke in to steal sensitive data.

"Riley, I'm glad to see you back. Feeling better?" Mr. Hunt asks as he shuts his laptop with a soft click and rises from his chair and steps around the desk.

"I'm doing a lot better, thank you." I nod.

"I'm glad to hear that." He places a hand on my shoulder, firm but gentle, as he gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Bennett. It's been a while." His tone shifts from soft to serious as his gaze shifts from me to Kyle, and he extends his hand to him.

"Hunt," Kyle replies, gripping his hand. Their handshake lingers a moment too long, both men holding the other's stare before they break apart.

"How can I help you two today?" Hunt asks, gesturing toward the seating area where two leather sofas face each other across a glass coffee table.

He lowers himself into the seat nearest the double doors that lead to his private office.

Kyle and I take the couch opposite him. The cushions dip under our weight, his knee brushing mine, and I cling to the small comfort of his presence.

I steal a glance at Kyle, nausea churning in the depths of my stomach. My palms are damp against my thighs, and my heart feels like it's trying to claw its way up my throat. Forcing myself to meet Hunt's gaze, I draw in a shaky breath.

"There's something I need to talk to you about."

His brows raise, the faintest sign of surprise, before he leans back in his chair with a long, steady sigh. "I'm all ears."

Nervous sweat beads at the nape of my neck, and I pick at my cuticles. Kyle's hand slides over mine.

"I'm here," he murmurs. My gaze shifts to Kyle, whose dark brown eyes comfort me with quiet reassurance. I then force my eyes back to Hunt.

"I… I did something stupid," I say.

Hunt doesn't move, but I see the subtle shift: confusion blending into disbelief, then every hint of emotion draining from his features. "Elaborate," he says.

The words tumble out before I can organize them in my mind.

"When you offered me the job five years ago, it wasn't a coincidence.

It was part of a plan. I was supposed to get your attention, get hired, and infiltrate Hunt Corp.

" My heart pounds like a drum in my chest. "But—" I stammer.

"I never gave away any information about Hunt Corp.

, about you, your siblings, or any other employees. That was never the goal. Never."

An uncomfortable silence drapes over the room like a heavy blanket.

Hunt's gaze lingers on me for a beat before shifting to Kyle.

My heart skips a beat when I catch the subtle movement of Kyle's hand in the corner of my eye, already brushing against the grip of his gun, his body tensed like a spring if someone so much as twitches the wrong way.

For a moment, the air between them crackles as everyone's attention is on me.

Every second stretches, my pulse hammering in my head until Hunt finally breaks the silence.

"Then what did they want? Just to have you here… in case?" His voice is low.

"No. They believed you had connections to the Butcher and wanted me to find details about him." I shake my head, forcing the words out.

"Oh, Riley, so that's why you kept asking about him?" Hunt huffs and drags a hand down his face. His calm demeanor cracks before my very eyes for the first time since I've known him.

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice quiet and almost pleading. My hand finds Kyle's and laces our fingers together, clinging to the comfort of his touch.

"You promise you never gave away any information about this company?" Hunt's tone cuts like a knife. His hand drops to his side, but his eyes stay locked on me. A vein throbs at his temple, his jaw locked tight. The calm surface is there, but underneath it, irritation simmers.

"Never," I answer quickly, shaking my head. "I found brothers and sisters here who changed my life for the better. This place gave me more than I ever expected. I wouldn't let anyone from this company get dragged into this mess."

"Good." Hunt's gaze shifts to Kyle. "Well, it looks like you found him."

"Yes," I say as I turn toward Kyle.

"I tried to stop her," Kyle adds, but Hunt lets out a short, dry laugh.

"I'm sure you did," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"If I didn't know your parents and hadn't seen your work firsthand, maybe I'd believe you.

But you?" He points a finger toward Kyle, his mouth twitching into something between a smile and a sneer.

"You're the perfect mix of your mother and father. "

Kyle leans back on the sofa, lips curling into a grin. "I'll take that as a compliment."

My eyes widen in horror, and my head whips toward Kyle. What the hell is he doing? Hunt's already on edge, and his patience is thin. And all Kyle can do is crack jokes? I squeeze his hand, drawing his attention to me, and throw him a pleading look.

To my surprise, though, Hunt doesn't react. Instead, he pushes himself to his feet, grabs a clean glass, and walks to the liquor shelf. He pours himself a drink of amber liquid, then turns back to us, pointing his glass toward Kyle. "Now that you've found him, why are you telling me all of this?"

"The one who sent me decided I failed," I say, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. "Now they want me gone."

"Who?" Hunt's brows shoot up.

"Jackson Philips."

Hunt pauses mid-sip, setting the glass down with a soft clink on the table.

"If that's the case, a phone call won't fix this.

" He shakes his head. "I've got connections in politics, but Philips is running a department I'm not even supposed to know exists.

" Before I can respond, he adds, "Have they already made a move? "

I glance at Kyle, silently begging him to take it from here. His grip on my hand is tightening. "He hired Chloé to kidnap Riley," Kyle says. "But I got her out."

"That little snake. Now I know why she kept coming back." He curses under his breath. His jaw flexes; the words are nearly a growl. He straightens, lifting his chin, the irritation in his tone fading. "Alright. What's your plan now?"